A/N: When I first joined tumblr, I made a fic prompt 'Mrs Hughes has just confronted Mr Green and is still seething with rage. Mr Carson calms her down, without ever finding out what made her so angry. If you feel like it, a companion piece would be 'Sometime in season 6 (or after) Anna finds out what Mrs Hughes did to protect her.' My first ever fic focussed on the second part (A Sunday Revelation) but it's only now that I feel able to stretch my literary muscles. So here we go, get in season 4, ep 4. A bit out of my usual angst free comfort zone! All script references belong to Julian Fellowes, and trigger warnings for references to Anna's attack.
Mrs Hughes sits at her desk, trying to focus on the plan for the linen notation in the next month, but cannot stop her thoughts from wandering and dwelling on the unhappiness which emanates from certain members of the downstairs staff. She should be able to focus, and sternly tells herself that it is all none of her business, and in any case there is nothing she can do to help.
She has long since given up trying to get Anna to go to the police, and if it weren't for the interest Lord Gillingham is showing in Lady Mary, that man would be little more than a memory, a phantom in Anna's dreams, and unable to do any more damage than he has done already.
But, she thinks grimly, he is here, and seems to be delighting in tormenting Anna and winding Mr Bates up to snapping point. She lays her pen down with a tut of annoyance at her mind's inability to let the matter rest. That man – she will not do him the courtesy of naming him – is the nastiest, most devious, cocksure, person she has ever had the misfortune to be acquainted with; and she has known her fair share of bad eggs, both upstairs and down. He has been sauntering around, all false friendship, since he arrived. He thinks he has got away with it all. He can see how cowed Anna is, and that Mr Bates is still unaware of the root of the problem, and is visibly floundering as he tries to find a way to help his uncommunicative wife.
That is what hurts the most in all of this, she thinks, as she rises from her chair, the anger surging through her making her restless. They had waiting for each other for so long, these two, through the downstairs plots, the way, that awful business with his first wife, and finally – when they were so happy - he calmly sauntered in and wrecked it all. She can see everything start to fall apart in front of her very eyes, and he's making it worse, dropping hints in his assurance that he's got away with it.
But! But he hasn't! She comes to an abrupt standstill from the fevered circuit she has been making of her sitting room. She is well aware of what he has done. He would not be so calm, surely, if he was aware someone else was privy to his despicable deeds. She has no qualms about going to the police, has only kept silent so far for Anna's sake. She still hears the frightened woman's pleas in her dreams sometimes, but now she is starting to wonder if the silence is doing more harm than good.
Certainly, it is allowing than monster to behave the way he is. She cannot betray Anna's trust by going to the police, but perhaps she can warn him and prove she is not afraid of him. He disgusts her, and she will not allow him the freedom to ruin something as good as the Bates's love.
She takes a deep breath, smoothing down her dress, using the action to tamp down the worries that instantly spring to her mind. Her eye falls on the gap in the wall by the dresser, the ghost of a terrified and battered Anna springing to her mind. Her fury instantly reignites, and she sweeps out of her room in search of the man who is the cause of it.
Her search is short and thankfully no one gives much thought to the housekeeping seeking out a visiting valet. He is in the boot room – the scene of the crime, according to Anna. The fact he can use the room so calmly chills her blood. She pauses by the door, assessing the situation. There he is, blithely polishing a show, quite alone, and without another thought, she strides into the room, closing the door behind her without ever breaking eye contact.
'They said you were in here.'
He stands, but the gesture is only a token to formality in a house where he does not belong.
'What can I do for you Mrs Hughes?'
His tone is pleasant enough, but the affability does not reach his eyes, which remain quite disinterested.
The thought of him assisting her in any way is sickening, and her reply is instant.
'Nothing. You can do nothing for me, because I know what you are, and I know what you've done.'
He breaks the eye contact then, looks down at the shoe he had been attending to. She is not sure if she is making any sort of impression, indeed her words appear to be sliding off him. His lack of concern irritates her further and the next words are spoken before she is really aware.
'And while you're here, if you value your life, I should stop playing the joker and keep to the shadows.'
She had not meant to threaten him, but finds she means every word. She shocks herself with that knowledge, not ever having been a violent woman before this moment, but she is able to prevent this from showing in her face. It does not seem to have troubled him in any case, for he sits – something she is sure no other man in this house would dare to do.
'I'm afraid we were a bit drunk that night, Anna and I. So you're right, we were both to blame.'
That he should insult Anna in this way is terrible, and she understands in that instant how easily the police might be swayed by his smooth and easy manner. But she still knows the truth and she won't allow him to lie to her in this way. He will not defile Anna a second time.
'No Mr Green', she bites out, her accent broadening in her anger, 'You were to blame, and only you.'
'Does Mr Bates know?'
The change of subject throws her a little and she looks away, wondering how best to answer, without allowing him the satisfaction of knowing he is safe, but she does not want to lie, although heaven knows why he deserves the courtesy of truth.
'Not that it was you.', she answers grimly, letting the implication that Mr Bates at least knows of the attack hang between them.
'Thank you.'
She hadn't thought it would be possible to be more disgusted than she already was, but his thanks make her stomach churn. Her lips curl as her attention is drawn back to him.
'Don't you dare thank me. I've not kept silent for your sake!'
He is totally unconcerned by her outburst and just continues to sit, brushing the shoe, a smirking sneer curling his lips as he looks at her. She is furious and needs to bring this to a conclusion before he manages to provoke her to action.
'You would do well to remember what I've said Mr Green.'
She turns, and wrenches the door open, her heels clicking loudly, but she still hears him respond.
'Oh, I will Mrs Hughes, I will.'
She does not hear the threat in those words until much later.
Returning to her sitting room, she feels the icy wrath sweep over her. She has done all she can, and still it is not enough. She is furious – with herself for her inability to help, with him for his total unconcern, and with the entire world for being the way it is.
A knock at the door sounds loudly in her ear and before she has been able to call out an answer, to tell whoever it is she is not to be disturbed, it opens. She whirls around, ready to spit daggers and startles Mr Carson with the undiluted anger in her eyes.
'I beg your pardon Mrs Hughes.' He pauses by the door frame, clearly unsure of how to handle this surprising anger. 'I'll come back later.'
She has to get out of this room, the entire house, if she has the smallest chance of controlling herself, and moves towards him.
'You'll excuse me, Mr Carson. I think it might be best if I went for a walk.'
He can hear the fury in her voice, she is sure, but she couldn't control it even if she tried. No doubt she has shocked him. She needs to leave before she shocks the entire staff.
'Would you like some company?'
He has managed to surprise her, and she feels a little of her anger subside, although not enough to make the possibility of conversation welcome.
'Only if you ask me no questions, Mr Carson. I'm not sure I would be able to explain.'
He nods in agreement and steps back to allow her to pass. She does not stop for her coat, just marches out of the back door and through the courtyard, barely concerning herself as to whether he is following. She can hear his measured tread behind her in any case.
She walks quickly, far quicker than usual. Mr Carson, who normally has to slow his pace when they walk together, finds himself having to take longer strides to keep up with her. She sets a course for the lake, although she is not conscious of having made a decision as to her direction.
She replays the conversation with that man over and over, trying to fathom if any of her words have made an impact on that devious creature. She is so focussed on the injustice of it all that she forgets to pay any attention to the placement of her feet and almost trips as her shoe hits a loose stone.
'Careful Mrs Hughes' comes the voice of the butler behind her, and he grasps her elbow to prevent her from falling completely.
She stands stock still for a moment, staring at the ground, collecting herself before looking up at her companion.
'Thank you Mr Carson.'
She cannot manage a smile just yet, but he can see she is starting to calm a little. Stooping, she plucks her would be trip hazard from the ground, clenching it in her hand, and sets off towards the lake once more.
They reach it shortly after this and she strides out on the jetty, glaring out at the water, which is smooth as glass. She can feel his presence behind her, although he has not joined her on the jetty. His eyes bore into the back of her head, and she knows that if she turns to face him, he will wear a look of baffled concern.
She is well aware she is a mystery to him most of the time, although she believes they are coming to a better understanding. She cannot explain the cause of her anger to him, however, not without unleashing a whole world of other issues, but mercifully he does not appear to require a reason for her behaviour. He is merely pleased to offer her this small act of friendship.
It is enough.
The stone she holds digs into her palm. It is like a physical manifestation of her anger, and in a symbolic act that she hopes will actually do some good, she draws back her arm and flings it out into the lake as hard as she can. 'Good riddance!' she cries after it.
'Feel better?' Mr Carson asks, amusement in his tone and his eyes, as she turns towards him.
'Much. Thank you Mr Carson.'
'It was nothing', he says as they retrace their steps towards the house and their duties.
It is not nothing, however. He has done much to restore her calm; to melt the ice of her anger with the warmth of his friendship. Mr Carson's friendship is no small thing, especially when she believes it to be all he will ever offer.
In the months to come, as things get better, and then immeasurably worse, she is reminded of this small act of kindness and clings to the memory and the comfort it brings.
A/N: Mrs Hughes confronting Mr Green was the bravest yet most reckless thing she ever did, and I wanted to explore that. I hope you liked it! A review or two would mean a great deal to the muse, especially as she's in an angsty frame of mind at the moment.